


Warm Winter

by etonnant67



Series: All of Love [2]
Category: EXO (Band), SHINee, SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Christmas, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, This is so fluffy it's suffocating, and an ostentatious christmas tree, egregious piano playing, think cabin in the woods but snuggly and wholesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21946102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etonnant67/pseuds/etonnant67
Summary: Jongin and Taemin spend Christmas together.Sequel toTell Me That You Feel It Too(but you don't have to have read the original to enjoy this!).
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Lee Taemin
Series: All of Love [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1580134
Comments: 9
Kudos: 70





	Warm Winter

**Author's Note:**

> I've always wanted to write a Holiday taekai and now I have! This is kinda a follow up to Tell Me That You Feel It Too that takes place 11 months after the events of that fic. I decided to mix it up and tell this story from Jongin's pov so hopefully it works? Special thanks goes out to [ttaemnini](https://twitter.com/ttaemnini), my official taekai consultant. This (very literally) would not have gotten done without you and your expertise!

“We’re almost there.” Taemin’s voice reaches through Jongin’s quiet doze, gentle and sweet.

Jongin opens his eyes and straightens in the passenger seat, stretching his arms above his head. Taemin looks away from the snow covered road in front of him, just for a moment, to smile at him, his eyes soft. 

“You sleep ok?” Taemin asks.

Jongin yawns and nods. “Well enough,” he says. “How long have I been out?”

Taemin shrugs, his hands steady on the wheel. “Maybe about forty-five minutes?” he guesses. “You drifted off just after we left the grocery store.”

Jongin winces. “Sorry.” He’d promised Taemin that he’d stay awake with him on the drive from the airport but he’d been struggling to hold onto consciousness since they’d landed at JFK. He’d barely slept on the fourteen hour flight over from Seoul, the rough turbulence making his heartbeat race. Instead, he’d curled up in his seat and split his attention between his novel, rewatching  _ the King and the Clown _ on the tiny screen in front of him, and watching Taemin breathe next to him, his face and body loose in slumber. But once they’d landed, Jongin had barely been able to stay upright as they went through Customs, stumbling through the Christmas Eve rush, and filled out the paperwork for their rental car.

Taemin shrugs again. “It’s no big deal,” he says. “You looked like a dead man walking when we landed. And the drive has been pretty, that’s more than enough to keep me alert.”

Jongin looks out the window now. It’s only a little after 6 but it’s as dark as midnight, the sky a deep blue-black. The moon is rising over the horizon, half of its face looking down over the empty road, its glow reflecting in the white of the snow. It is beautiful. It’s quiet and peaceful in a way that Jongin hasn’t experienced in so long. The snow-heavy trees line the road, arms stretching up towards the sky, as if thanking the moon for its light.

“It’s . . .nice,” Jongin says. He shivers, as if looking out into the snow had brought some of the cold to him. He fiddles with the heater on the console, turning the temperature up a few degrees. “It’s so quiet out here.”

Taemin laughs. “That’s why you picked this place. They promised us a quiet place of our own.”

Jongin hums and leans back in his seat. The two of them had decided, way back in May, that they’d spend Christmas together, somewhere far away, somewhere where they could just be themselves, be  _ by  _ themselves, spend a moment of winter together, make a few days all their own. Like they used to. It’d been a hard year, even after they’d reconciled back in January. They’d tried to be more deliberate about their relationship--trying to find ways to make time for one another, trying to balance work and travel and responsibilities around their love for one another. In some ways, SuperM made it easier--they had finally gotten what they’d dreamed of since they were twelve, singing and practicing and traveling together, finally in the same group. 

But SuperM was still hard. Bombarded by a relentless schedule--bouncing from city to city, to country, trying to navigate it all in English--all they’d had to settle for a handful of small moments; stolen kisses in the back of vans, a quick warm shoulder squeeze on stage, holding on to each other in the dead of night Jongin, burying his nose in the soft hair at Taemin’s nape, letting his smell lull him to sleep. There was no time for long, longing moments in bed, no time for indulgent nights together, no time for  _ them _ . It was almost worse than being in separate groups--when they knew for a fact that they’d have time alone when they both stumbled into Seoul at the same time. In SuperM, their time was not their own.

So they’d decided that this winter, they’d make their own. Winter is their time, it always has been, and this is the only break they have for the next few months. Mark had told Jongin about the Poconos back in July, about the beautiful mountain range only an hour and a half drive from New York City, about the snow and the quiet. With Mark’s help, Jongin had dug around on the internet until he found a cabin on Airbnb, tucked far back off the main road. It’d been easy to book the place for Christmas Eve and Christmas night, so Jongin did. He surprised Taemin with the trip later that night, smiling at him shyly. The grin that broke out over his boyfriend’s face filled Jongin with light. 

Taemin fiddles with the radio, scanning the channels until he lands on a channel playing old-school blues, rich like honey in the cold December air.

Jongin takes Taemin’s hand from where it’s resting on the center console, lacing their fingers together. Taemin glances at him again, gracing Jongin with one of his beautiful smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Jongin squeezes Taemin’s hand and then brings their joined hands up to this lips to kiss the back of Taemin’s hand.

At the GPS’s command, Taemin takes the left at the fork. The road narrows in front of them, and it gets darker, the trees and snow crouching in closer. The bright headlights of their rental cut two beams through the dark, lighting the road ahead.

“The directions that the host sent us said that it should be the second right after we take the left,” Taemin muses, “we just passed the first right so I guess it’s this one here?”

Taemin takes the right, and Jongin can feel the slippery crunch of the tires as they navigate down the snow-covered gravel. The cabin comes into view, the same as Jongin remembered from the website. The small A-frame glows from where it’s nestled between tall pine trees, their branches bowing towards the roof under the soft weight of the snow. Smoke curls from the brick chimney, meeting the treetops. The front porch is lit by strings of lights, glowing like frozen stars under the blanket of snow. The cabin’s wood is a warm brown, and it has large windows framed by frosted shutters. Even only in the dim light of their headlights, Jongin can make out the color of the door--cherry-red to match the shutters.

“It’s so cute,” Taemin says as he cuts the engine. “It looks like something out of one of those British fairy tales.” He unbuckles his seatbelt and gives Jongin a huge, cheesy grin, fluttering his eyelashes. “Are you going to be my fairy prince? Gonna put on a tiara? Save me from the big scary Yeti?”

Jongin rolls his eyes and shoves Taemin on the shoulder. “Gross.”

Taemin sticks out his tongue, his eyes shining through his too long fringe. “You only keep me around because I’m gross.”

Jongin pinches the tip of Taemin’s tongue, laughing at the way that his boyfriend squeals. “Yep,” Jongin says, letting go. “I’m only keeping you around because you’re gross.” 

Taemin pouts at him and then gets out of the car. Jongin follows him out and to the backseat where they retrieve their luggage and the bags of groceries that they’d stopped to buy once they’d crossed into Pennsylvania. The air feels like ice against their car-warmed skin and they race each other to the front porch, their breath puffing out in front of them in the cold air as they laugh.

“The host said that we don’t need a key,” Jongin says, noticing the numerical pad attached to the door where the keyhole should be. He pulls his phone out of his jacket pocket. “It’s just a code?” He scrolls back through his emails until he finds the registration confirmation. He quickly taps in the four digit code and there’s a soft click, the gears unsticking. Taemin turns the doorknob and they hurry out of the cold.

It’s even more enchanted inside. The door opens into the kitchen, which has a pot bellied wood burning stove, burning hot, and slate colored counter tops. The host had left the lights on in preparation for their arrival and Jongin takes in the old-fashioned copper pots hanging underneath the cabinets and the matching copper kettle sitting next to the sink. There’s a well-loved wooden table and two chairs off to the side cast in moonlight from the huge window over the sink. 

“This is so nice,” Taemin says. He toes off his shoes and goes over to the stove, warming his hands in front of it. Jongin puts the groceries down on the countertop and starts to unpack, putting the eggs and vegetables in the fridge, and laying the bread out on the table. He leaves the rest for Taemin to handle and then wanders through the arched entryway into the living room. It’s much larger in here, with a high ceiling, the entire space made warm and cozy by the fire burning in the fireplace that the host had already gotten going. A spiral staircase twists in the left corner, leading to the bedroom, and underneath it, is an antique piano, the same rich honey wood color as the walls. The floor is covered by a plush turkish rug and Jongin admires the burgundy couch and the matching gray corduroy armchairs, arranged around the fireplace. There’s a thick afgan tossed over the arm of the couch and a rustic center table made out of well worn pine with magazines neatly stacked on top. The wall behind the chairs has two huge windows, looking out at the trees behind the house. But the best part is the Christmas tree, tall and glittering in the other corner, adorned with what seem like thousands of golden ornaments, shining in the red-orange glow of the fireplace.

“Oh wow,” Taemin whispers, coming up behind Jongin. He wraps his arms around Jongin’s waist, sliding his hands underneath the hem of his coat. He pulls Jongin in close so that they’re chest to back and kisses him, softly, on the nape of the neck. “This is so cute.” 

Jongin leans back against Taemin and hums in agreement. “Isn’t it?”

“And there’s a piano,” Taemin says. “You gonna play it with me?”

“Do you just want me to bang on the keys?” Jongin laughs and turns in Taemin’s arms. “I can’t play piano and you know that.”

“I could teach you.” Taemin tightens his hold. “You know that.”

“How many times have we tried?” Jongin quirks one eyebrow upwards. “I’m hopeless and you know that.”

“Maybe it’ll be a Christmas miracle.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than that,” Jongin says with a sigh.

“Have you gone upstairs yet?” Taemin asks. “I wanna see the bedroom.”

“Of course you do.” He slides his arms around Taemin’s waist and presses a kiss to his forehead. “Let’s bring the bags upstairs and look around?”

They recover their luggage from the kitchen and haul their bags up the stairs. The bedroom is spacious, with tall windows and an old-fashioned iron bed covered with a multicolored quilt. Taemin drops his duffle bag on the floor and then launches on to the bed, the mattress squeaking in protest at his sudden weight.

“This is really comfy,” he says, his voice muffled by all the pillows.

“Oh really?” Jongin sets his bag down and joins Taemin, sitting down next to his stretched out form. “Did you have to throw yourself on the bed to figure that out?”

Taemin glares up at him through his bleached blonde bangs and then sits up, abruptly, tackling Jongin on to the bed. Jongin lands on his back with an  _ oof _ and Taemin hovers over him, laughing. 

Jongin smiles up at him. He loves it when Taemin is like this--when his walls fall away and his heart and face open up with love and ease. Jongin has known Taemin his whole life. He’s seen him in every configuration, he’s watched him grow, watched him learn and fall and get back up again. Jongin was there. He wouldn’t have wanted to be anywhere else.

But Jongin still feels the dull, sick sting of guilt sometimes. Sometimes, when he looks at Taemin, when he sees the trust in his eyes but feels the way that Taemin holds his hand (too tight as if he’s afraid that Jongin is going to pull away) he remembers the pain that he’d put them both through, he remembers the fear that he’d felt to just tell Taemin that he loves him. And ever since they’d snuck into that back alley in Santiago, the concrete warm and gold in the summer sun, when Jongin had promised himself to Taemin, telling him that he wanted to understand all of love with him, Jongin has tried his hardest. He’s spent every moment of the past eleven months trying to understand what it really means to love his best friend as fully and deeply as Taemin loves him. And sometimes, it feels impossible, sometimes Jongin feels like his own heart isn’t big enough or deep enough to even begin to match all of the love that Taemin gives him. Taemin loves like he dances--like it’s everything he has, like it’s the only thing keeping him alive. And sometimes, Jongin feels like there’s nothing he can do but stand there and receive it all, swallow it down and try to show Taemin even a fraction of that love. Because if Taemin showed him just a sliver of the love that he pours into Jongin everyday, Jongin is certain that he would still die a rich man. Taemin loves him that much. 

Jongin places two hands on Taemin’s shoulders and pushes him over, changing positions. Taemin yells in mock-outrage and tries to tackle Jongin back into the pillows. They tussle like that--Jongin trying to catch Taemin in a chokehold, trying to pin him down--but Taemin moves like liquid, squirming away from Jongin’s grasp every time, sliding his hands under the hem of Jongin’s hoodie, tickling him in all the places where Taemin knows--and has always known--that Jongin is most sensitive. Jongin tries to swallow his bubbles of laughter long enough to flip Taemin back underneath him, straddling his waist and pinning Taemin’s arms above his head with one hand. Taemin bites his lip and grins up at him.

“What are you gonna do now?” Taemin dares, “You got me here, so what’s the punishment?”

Jongin looks down at him for a beat, taking in the way that Taemin’s hair is mussed and messy against the quilt, the way that his chest is rising and falling with his breaths, quicken from their tussle. Taemin looks up at him with shining eyes, with trust, with humor,  _ with love _ . And Jongin feels his heart swell.

Jongin doesn’t know what else to do but lean down and kiss him. Taemin inhales his kiss, his eyes fluttering shut and his mouth opening, letting Jongin in. Kissing Taemin always feels like a revelation, like coming home, like Jongin is finally whole. Taemin is half of him, Taemin is his best parts, his weird parts, his joy. Taemin makes Jongin,  _ Jongin _ . Jongin doesn’t know who he is without Taemin. Like parts of him didn’t exist until Taemin opened all of the doors to his soul and let the light shine in.

Jongin covers Taemin’s body with his own and loosens his grip on Taemin’s hands, sliding his palms down to cup the back of Taemin’s neck. Taemin nips at Jongin’s lip, sucking on it lightly, before tangling his fingers in Jongin’s hair, tugging hard. Jongin bites Taemin back, just as hard, and then moves his mouth down to Taemin’s neck, sucking and kissing his way down until Taemin is squirming and gasping underneath him, each tiny plea sending minute electric shocks through Jongin’s blood.

Taemin runs his fingers through Jongin’s hair and sighs, the sound breaking free and flitting up to the ceiling, filling every corner of the room.

Jongin breaks away to kiss Taemin one more time, softly, on the lips, their lips clinging together as they part.

Taemin’s eyes flutter open and he looks at Jongin softly.

“What was that for?” He murmurs, his voice as warm as the quilt beneath them.

Jongin gives him a half-shrug. “Can’t I just kiss you?”

“You can always kiss me.” Taemin’s thumb rubs at the back of Jongin’s neck softly. “I like it when you kiss me. And when you kiss me like that.”

Jongin feels himself blush red and he buries his face in the crook of Taemin’s neck. Even now, after so long, after so many shared kisses and shared breaths, and gentle touches, Taemin makes him feel bashful. Taemin makes him feel. Feel in ways that shouldn’t be allowed, feel in ways that he’d denied himself. Feel in ways that he never told himself that he could or should have.

They lay there like that, Jongin breathing him in; breathing in the dull smell of airplane and sweat layered on top of the smoky sweetness that always clings to Taemin’s skin, Taemin stroking at Jongin’s neck.

“You smell like airplane,” Jongin whispers into his neck.

Taemin pinches Jongin. “Of course I do, asshole,” he says. “What, you think that you don’t?”

Jongin licks at Taemin’s neck in retaliation. “You’re not breathing me in right now are you?” Jongin lifts his head to grin mischievously at Taemin. “Are you?”

Taemin rolls his eyes and sits up. “Whatever, I wanna go take a bath anyways,” he says. “There’s a bathtub here, right?”

Jongin sits up and nods. “Yep, as long as Airbnb didn’t lie to us. The profile on the site showed a huge clawfoot tub.”

“I’ll go investigate,” Taemin gets up from the bed and heads into the in suite bathroom. There’s a shout of glee as Taemin discovers the tub and then the sound of running water. 

Jongin smiles to himself and shakes his head, laughing at his boyfriend’s antics. He gets up and goes over to where he discarded his backpack, unzipping the main compartment where he takes out the novel he’d started on the plane and a small, gift wrapped box. He takes them both and goes back downstairs to the living room where he stands in front of the tree, hesitating. It had taken so long to pick out what felt like the  _ right present _ . He’d wanted to get Taemin something that spoke to their relationship, something that would represent  _ them  _ and them alone. Jongin had first considered getting them matching rings, but that felt too. . .formal. And there’s the added complication of the fact that both he and Taemin lose everything so. . .maybe they aren’t ready for that. At least not yet. 

He wants to buy him one ring, one day, that will bind the two of them together forever. But right now he wants to get Taemin something that will be a promise of that later day. 

Jongin smiles to himself and places the present under the tree. Taemin will probably spot it when he eventually pries himself out of the bath, but that’s ok. There’s something charming about the one tiny present under the huge Christmas tree.

Jongin steps back and gives the tree one more once over. He sets his book down on the coffee table and then goes into the kitchen. It’s nearly 8 and between the flight and the drive, they’ve barely eaten today. Jongin opens the fridge and takes out the cheese, chicken thighs, garlic, lemon and herbs that they’d bought on their way in. He pulls the recipe that he’d bookmarked earlier. Jongin isn’t a great cook, but he can follow a recipe more of less. It takes him a moment to find the cooking utensils but soon he has a pot of water boiling on the stove. He adds the pasta to the pot and starts chopping the vegetables. About thirty minutes later, he’s straining the pasta--and trying his best to not get a facefull of steam--while the chicken finish up in a butter and herb pan sauce.

“That smells good.” Taemin wanders into the kitchen, his hair wet and cheeks pink from his bath. He’s wearing a giant black pullover sweatshirt and sweatpants so large that they drag on the floor.

Jongin shrugs. “I hope it tastes as good as it smells.” He eyes Taemin’s outfit. “Why are your clothes three times too big for you?”

“Because I stole them from you.” Taemin steals a noodle from the pot, slurping it.

“I resent that.” Jongin puts the spaghetti on plates and then dishes the chicken on top, spooning the sauce on top. “I am not that much bigger than you.”

“Do you want something to drink?” Taemin goes over to the fridge, taking out two bottles of beer, holding them up.

“Sure.” Jongin grabs utensils out of the drawer and carries the food into the living room. 

They decide to eat in front of the fire, sitting side-by-side on the couch. Taemin pulls up a Christmas playlist on his phone and they sing along in between bites.

“This was really good,” Taemin says, setting his empty plate down on the coffee table. “So many surprises tonight. Who would have known that you could cook?”

Jongin takes a sip of his beer and rolls his eyes. “Don’t lump me in with you. I  _ can _ cook when you’re not around to distract me.”

“Oh so it’s my fault?” Taemin teases.

“What can I say?” Jongin kisses Taemin on the cheek. “You’re distracting.”

Taemin smirks at him. “Oh  _ am  _ I?” He kisses Jongin softly. 

Jongin cups the back of Taemin’s head and kisses him back, taking his time to taste the warmth of Taemin’s mouth. It’s nice.To be here with Taemin; to be warm and safe here, with the fire crackling merrily in front of them, to be able to kiss each other leisurely without the press and rush of the world around them. 

Taemin breaks away first, licking at his bottom lip. 

“I should do the dishes,” he says. 

“I can help.” Jongin moves to stand up but Taemin stops him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“No you cooked, it’s only fair that I clean.” Taemin gets up and collects the plates, carrying them to the kitchen. At a loss for anything else to do, Jongin picks up his book and settles back into the sofa. He flips open to where he left off on the plane and falls back into early-19th century England.

Helen Burns is just giving her last breath when Taemin comes back in, carrying two steaming mugs.

“I made us hot chocolate,” he says, handing one to Jongin. “There was mix in the cabinet and I figured that if there was ever a time for hot cocoa it would be Christmas Eve.”

Jongin takes a huge sip and then yelps in pain. “It’s hot!”

Taemin laughs and rolls his eyes. “Duh.” He goes over to the piano, setting his drink down on the flat top. He presses a few of the keys experimentally, the notes floating in the air until they start to form the opening chords of ‘Miracles in December.’

“Really?” Jongin says. “Of all the songs?”

Taemin laughs. “Hey, you all didn’t release a Christmas album this year,” he says, not dropping the melody, “I figured I should pay my respects to your Christmas career.”

Jongin shakes his head and picks his book back up. Taemin segues into a few other Christmas songs before letting his fingers wander, picking up a winding melody that sounds everything like the snow coating the ground outside. It fills the living room, making the air feel closer, making everything feel warmer. It makes everything feel like home.

\---

Jongin doesn’t realize that he’s drifted off until Taemin shakes his shoulder, gently.

“You fell asleep again,” Taemin says, leaning over where Jongin is stretched out on the sofa, his book open across his lap.

Jongin sits up and stretches. The fire has burnt down to only embers casting the room in a red-orange glow. 

“Shit,” he says. He runs his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t mean to.”

Taemin extends his hand and pulls Jongin up. “Let’s go to bed?”

They shut off the lights and go back to the bedroom. They go to the bathroom together, brushing their teeth next to either other, making faces at each other in the mirror over the sink. Taemin rises his mouth out and then kisses Jongin on the cheek before heading back to the bedroom.

Jongin spits and rinses and then takes a quick shower, using the cabin-provided soap. He dries himself off and then goes back into the bedroom.

Taemin is bundled up under the covers, only his head visible where it rests on the pillows. He wiggles his eyebrows when he sees the single towel tied around Jongin’s waist.

“Don’t bother with pyjamas,” Taemin says when Jongin starts rummaging through this suitcase. “I’m not wearing any.”

Jongin feels his cheeks heat up. “That’s all on you, Taeminnie.” He finds the plaid flannel pants he’d been searching for and then slips them on underneath his towel, much to Taemin’s dismay. “My legs get cold.”

“I’ll keep them warm.”

Jongin tips his head back and laughs, his eyes squeezing shut. “I can’t take you seriously at all when you try to be seductive. It just. . .doesn’t work.”

Taemin makes a wounded face. “Hey, I’ve successfully convinced millions of fangirls and fanboys that I’m extremely sexy and good in bed.”

Jongin switches off the bedside lamp and gets in bed, pulling the sheets up to his throat. He lays on his side to face Taemin, sliding one his legs between Taemin’s own. Sure enough, Taemin is completely naked.

“See the only reason that that’s worked is because the fans don’t really know you,” Jongin says. “They don’t know you like I know you.”

“What do you know about me?” Taemin murmurs. He scoots in closer, draping one hand over Jongin’s waist. “Hmm?”

Jongin pauses to touch the side of Taemin’s face, stroking down from his cheek to his neck and then back up. Taemin shivers at the touch, inhaling softly. 

“They don’t know the way that you respond to the way that I touch you,” Jongin whispers. “They don’t know that the sexiest thing about you is the way that you sound when we kiss, the quiet way that you sigh. And they don’t know how gentle you are when you touch me--how you always take your time.” Jongin leans in and leaves a tiny kiss at the corner of Taemin’s mouth. “They don’t know how you give all of your emotions in every touch you give me,” he breathes into the tiny space between them. “How I always know exactly how much you love me every time we make love.”

Taemin leans in this time, kissing Jongin full and hard. Jongin opens his mouth, letting Taemin in, letting him give and show him everything. Letting Taemin taste how much Jongin loves him. How much Jongin wants him.

They lose themselves in the thrill of each other’s touch, until the sheets are bunched up at the bottom of the bed and Jongin’s pants are off and tossed in a corner. Jongin finds himself hovering over Taemin, their bodies bare and flush against each other, their chests heaving, Taemin’s hair tangled against the pillows, his mouth bitten full from their kisses.

“Taeminnie--” Jongin cuts off with a moan when Taemin rolls his hips upwards, pressing his erection against Jongin’s twin hardness. “ _ Fuck _ \--do you. . .?” He rolls his hips back down.

“ _ Yes _ , Jongin,” Taemin gasps out. “I want to. You know I want to.”

Jongin reluctantly gets up and goes back to his backpack, taking the lube out from where he stashed it. He hurries back to the bed and Taemin parts his knees, making space for Jongin to kneel between them.

“I want you to finger me,” Taemin says. “I want to feel you like that.”

Jongin inhales sharply. “Ok, baby.” He uncaps the lube and coats two of his fingers. “Whatever you want.” He kisses Taemin again, slipping his tongue into his mouth, and then lets his fingers drift downwards circling Taemin’s hole. Taemin lets out a breathy whimper and Jongin swallows it down to hold inside of himself. 

Jongin takes his time, working Taemin open with one and then two fingers. Taemin moans and squirms against him, his eyes closed and mouth open and wet against Jongin’s own. When Jongin crooks his fingers slightly finding the button of nerves tucked deep inside and pressing up against them, Taemin shouts, thrusting up against Jongin’s stomach.

“Jongin--Jonginnie--Nini--baby,” Taemin pleads.

“Shhh.” Jongin shushes him with a kiss to the forehead. “What do you need, baby? Tell me what you want.”

“You,” Taemin breathes. “Just you. Always you.”

Jongin inhales sharply and then draws his fingers out, pouring more lube over them, and then reentering Taemin with three fingers all at once. Taemin’s back arches off the bed and all Jongin can think is that Taemin is never more beautiful, has never  _ been _ more beautiful, than when he lets himself melt into pleasure, when he lets Jongin see him like this. It’s everything that Jongin has ever wanted. Sometimes, it feels like more than what Jongin deserves.

“Jongin,  _ please _ ,” Taemin gasps. “Please.” Jongin can feel how turned on Taemin is, his dick hard and weeping precum against his hip. Part of him wants to finger Taemin until he cums, part of him wants to just watch Taemin come completely undone just like this, but Taemin’s voice is razor sharp with desperation.

“Ok.” Jongin draws his hand out again and then sits up. He hisses as he coats himself with the remainder of the lube on his hand. He’s so, so hard that it almost hurts. He lays between Taemin’s spread legs again, lining himself up. Taemin opens his eyes and wraps his legs around Jongin’s waist, holding him there.

“I love you,” Jongin says looking straight into Taemin’s eyes. “I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Taemin says. He reaches up to tangle his fingers in Jongin’s hair. “Always have. Always will.”

Jongin kisses Taemin and pushes into his heat, moaning at the tight wet heat as Taemin draws him in. It almost feels impossible, how good it feels, how well they fit together. How their bodies move in-sync, like they’re bending and breaking physics to meld into one. The very calculus of it: his one and Taemin’s one, his chest and Taemin’s chest, pressed together, his mouth on Taemin’s two lips, his one breath, Taemin’s one exhale, their two gasps, his two arms around Taemin’s two shoulders, twined together like this. One in friendship, one in love, one in the thousands of minutes and millions of seconds and infinite moments of forever--them. The two of them.

“Jongin,” Taemin says urgently. “Jongin, touch me please, I’m so close.”

Jongin lowers his head to suck at Taemin’s neck and sneaks his left hand down, taking Taemin into his palm. It doesn’t take very long--one, two, three pulls--before Taemin’s body tenses and then relaxes, quietly gasping as he cums across their stomachs.

Just watching Taemin lose it snaps Jongin’s fragile hold on his own arousal and he bites down on Taemin’s collarbone as he cums, his cold electricity shooting through his entire body.

He takes a deep breath and then pulls out, laying down next to Taemin. Taemin drapes himself on top of Jongin, using his chest as a cushion. They stay like that, their breaths racing as they come back into their bodies.

“We’re starting to stick together,” Taemin says into his chest. “It’s kinda gross.” He gets up and retrieves a damp washcloth from the bathroom, wiping them both off gently before tossing the cloth on the floor. He gets back in bed, pulling the sheets back up before cuddling in close.

“Goodnight, Jonginnie,” Taemin says into his chest. “Love you. Thank you for this.”

Jongin squeezes Taemin’s shoulder, gently before kissing him on the top of his head.

“Love you too, Taeminnie.”

\---

Jongin wakes up to the sound of the piano. He’s alone in bed and from the gap in the curtains, it’s still pitch black outside. He gets out of bed and recovers his pyjama pants sliding them on before taking a sweatshirt out of his bed. He goes down the stairs and finds Taemin sitting at the piano in the same clothes he’d had on earlier, playing a song he doesn’t recognize. Jongin’s favorite thing about watching Taemin play piano is the way that he’s able to make a song take flight--the way that he’s able to make the music swell and fill a room. The song that Taemin’s playing is fragile and melancholy and beautiful and it engulfs the dimly lit room, making the lights from the tree gleam with the flow of the melody. Jongin stands at the foot of the stairs until Taemin finishes, the last notes hanging and then dissipating in the air.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Jongin asks.

Taemin startles and then turns on the piano bench, smiling sheepishly.

“Yeah, sorry,” he says. Jongin goes over to the bench and sits down beside him. “I’m jet-lagged and my body woke me up. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

Jongin presses a kiss to Taemin’s shoulder and shakes his head. “No, it’s alright. It was nice to hear you play like that. I feel like you don’t really get the chance to do that all that often.”

Taemin shrugs. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s nice to play like that. Without having to practice for anything.”

For a moment, Jongin lets his mind wander. Let’s himself imagine an alternate reality where the two of them aren’t celebrities with an industry watching every second of their lives, dictating how and when to sleep, to breathe, to move, to exist. Jongin considers a timeline where it’s just him and Taemin, the two of them, living alone in a warm, tiny cabin, reading books together, sleeping whenever they want, cooking together. A reality where they can be frivolous with their time, where Taemin can play piano for as long as he wants even into the dead of the night, however he wants, and where Jongin can just watch him and let his music wash him away. 

It’s a dream. One that they can’t have. But one that’s so tempting and so beautiful that Jongin can’t look away.

Jongin gets up from the bench. He can feel Taemin’s eyes on him and he goes over to the tree and retrieves the gift where he’d left it earlier that evening.

“I know that we were gonna do this in the morning,” Jongin says as he goes back over the bench, “but since we’re both up and everything. . .I kinda wanna give you your present now?”

Taemin takes the red-foil wrapped box from him with both hands. 

“Do you want me to go get your present from upstairs?” Taemin asks. “We could do the full exchange and everything.”

“No, it’s ok,” Jongin says. “We can do mine now and yours later?”

Taemin nods and smiles. “Ok.” He starts to unwrap it, tearing at it haphazardly until the gray cloth of the box underneath is revealed. Taemin frowns as he lifts the lid and then his mouth drops open.

“Oh, Jongin,” he whispers, as he lifts up the gold bead bracelet. “It’s so pretty.”

“I saw it when I was in Paris earlier this year,” Jongin says. His palms are sweating and he wipes them on his pants. “I was walking past a storefront and they had rosary bracelets in the window and the first thing I thought of were the ones that your mom gave us forever ago. I figured that it would be . . .nice to get us a pair now.” He swallows. “I got a matching one for myself too--it’s in my bag upstairs. I just thought that it would be nice to have something that would tie us back to where we started and something that would connect us now. As the people we are now, as the relationship that we have now.”

Taemin slips the bracelet onto his wrist, the tiny cross dangling down towards his palm. It looks perfect against his skin.

“Thank you,” Taemin says. He takes Jongin’s right hand into his own. “It’s beautiful. I love it.”

“Taemin. . .” Jongin starts and then trails off. He interlocks their fingers and squeezes Taemin’s hand within his own. “Taemin, I broke your heart a year ago,” he starts again. “And then almost a month later, I finally owned up to my emotions and told you that I love you. I told you that I want to understand all of love with you. And I’ve tried so hard.” Jongin looks Taemin in the eyes. Taemin meets his gaze with an expression full of love. “And I’ve learned more about myself and about you in this year than I ever thought I could. And I can’t wait to keep learning.” He smiles. “Even when I think I know everything about you,  _ about us _ , I realize that there’s always so much more. We’re the biggest, greatest mystery I know. And I love that.” He kisses Taemin on the cheek. “I love you.”

“I love that too,” Taemin whispers. “I love everything about this--about you. About us. I love you.”

Jongin grins at him, his heart as bright as the Christmas tree. 

Taemin looks over Jongin’s shoulder. His face breaks into a huge smile.

“It’s snowing!” he says, pointing out the window. Jongin swivels around to see the huge snowflakes fluttering to the ground.

“Wanna go watch the snow fall on the porch?” Jongin asks him.

They both spring up and go to the kitchen. Taemin opens the front door and stops in the doorway, almost as if frozen by the burst of cold. Jongin comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Taemin, pulling him close. Together, they watch the snow fall, silent and graceful s it coats the ground. Standing there, just in their sweatshirts, it should be cold. But, there, with Taemin, Jongin feels so, so warm.

“Merry Christmas, Taeminnie,” he whispers. “I love you.”

“Merry Christmas, Jongin. I love you too.”

**Author's Note:**

> And that's all, folks! Thank you for reading this ridiculously cheesy fic which, truly, was just an excuse for me to look a bunch of cabin porn. Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate! If you want my writing playlist, please go [here](https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLqNi6LTIfVrmYqOnz6-N5mniaR6vEdA5g).
> 
> A few little details:  
> \- If you’re wondering, the book that Jongin is reading is Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte. For some reason, I just imagine that Jongin is trying to work his way through the British classics. TBH, Jane Eyre is my favorite Bronte novel so hopefully Jongin likes it too? 
> 
> \- The song that Taemin is playing at the end is [River](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3NH-ctddY9o) by Joni Mitchell, which, if you’ve read any of my other fic, you know that I think is the best Christmas song ever.
> 
> Let me know what you thought! Again, still not writing much but if you want to creep on me, come find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/intensencounter).


End file.
